


All Glory

by Snowfilly1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Crowley Loves Humanity (Good Omens), Futurama (freeform), Gen, Humor, Pre-Canon, The Author Regrets Nothing, confused demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowfilly1/pseuds/Snowfilly1
Summary: "The upshots of this conversation were as follows:1. Crowley spending an unseemly amount of time in Hell armed with a portable DVD player and some Futurama box sets."Or, Hastur and Ligur discover the existence of the Hypnotoad  and assume it's making fun of Hastur's frog. Crowley gets to explain things.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	All Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Facebook made me do it. Shoutout to the Scribbling Vaguely Downwards FB group, where a Hypnotoad gif popped up in the conversation one day, and a few people suggested I write a fic involving it and out forward some genius ideas. Love you all. 
> 
> I've had this knocking around unfinished for a couple of months, but I figured we could all use some nonsense crack at the moment. A little bit of swearing.

'Our Lord and Master wants your attention on a - Crowley, what the fuck?'

Crowley signed and swung his boots down off the table, turning to glare at the TV screen. Hastur and his frog were only taking up half of it, but that was enough to make it fairly unpleasant viewing. 

'I don't know what you mean, Your Disgrace.'

'That...that thing that you were watching.' Hastur flapped a hand and the frog nearly slid off his head with the violence of his movements. 'Indecent, I call it.'

'Huh?' For once, Crowley was as baffled as he was pretending to be. So baffled, that he looked back over at his laptop to check he hadn't tabbed across to Twitter and the latest pictures of politicians in the wrong beds he'd been spreading around. 

Nope. 

Futurama, just as it had been for the past two hours. It had bad jokes and spaceships and Aziraphale sniffed at it, which meant he normally watched it at his flat. 

'Crowley, if you think this is some kind of joke...' 

Oh great, there was a distinct edge of threat to Hastur's voice now. Way to spoil a nice lazy Tuesday afternoon. 

'It's a TV programme, my Lord. An American one. I happened to be watching it, that's all. I assure you it's only a co-incidence that you arrived while I was watching it.'

Oh, even better. Hastur's fussing had obviously disturbed Ligur, who was suddenly on screen alongside his - well, whatever they were. Crowley had spent a few thousand years avoiding that question. 

'Are the makers of this programme making fun of us, Crowley? Mocking us?' There was a smite-y undertone in Ligur's voice that sounded like it wouldn't need a lot of persuading to become an overtone. 

'No?'

YOU DON'T SOUND VERY SURE, CROWLEY.

'Ow!' He managed to keep his hands at his sides, even when everything in him wanted to rub his skull. 'Can you keep using normal speech, please? This form doesn't react to voices being dumped in the brain.'

Both figures onscreen sniggered, the chameleon flickering through a rainbow of colours in what was apparently reptilian amusement - was it a reptile? Perhaps he ought to find out one day, there might be some advantage in knowing things like that. 

By the time they'd stopped laughing, he'd decided that he probably didn't have enough time left, immortal or not, to explain satire to them. Instead, he settled for a lie.

'You see, it's actually a tribute. Well known. After you did that work in Europe a few years back, many humans were talking about you. And you are rather striking looking, so they remembered you.' 

It had been a few centuries and probably the biggest holdover of Hastur's adventures on Earth had been the idea of princesses kissing frogs but Crowley wasn't going to let his brain go anywhere near that image. Still, what they didn't know probably wouldn't hurt them. 

'But that's a toad,' Ligur pointed out, gesturing to the screen where cartoon sheep were being herded into a cartoon pen. 

'A special toad,' Crowley replied. 'With, ehhh, occult abilities. He can force humans to do what he wants.'

Hastur preened slightly. Crowley would have been happy to live all his time on Earth without ever seeing that. 

'I do pride myself on my possession skills,' he said. 

What, the same ones that routinely leave people a gibbering heap on the floor and unable to do anything useful for our Master for the rest of their lives? Crowley asked in the relative privacy of his mind. 

'Of course, Your Disgrace. A well placed tribute indeed.'

'And you didn't think to mention this to us before, demon Crowley?'

'I...I thought you knew?' Damn, they could probably hear the frantic whirring noises of his brain.

'I mean, I was sure someone as well informed as yourself would have come across this already, Duke Ligur.'

'You are meant to be our Earth liaison. Remember?'

'Oh. Yeah, liaison, yeah of course. '

Hastur was still watching the screen with curiosity. 'Did they put me in other chapters?'

'Episodes. Yes.'

'I think...I think I would like to see them.'

***

The upshots of this conversation were as follows:

1\. Crowley spending an unseemly amount of time in Hell armed with a portable DVD player and some Futurama box sets. 

2\. Crowley flopping over his angel's couch and saying 'please don't ask, Aziraphale, I don't think I could explain if I tried.'

3\. The surprisingly quick un-cancelling of Futurama. 

4\. The younger demons of Hell adopting 'ALL GLORY' as their standard greeting for Hastur. 

5\. The words 'ALL GLORY' being banned from Hell. 

6\. Crowley finding a new favourite animated show.

7\. Hastur spending rather too much time in front of mirrors trying to make his eyes spin.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. I'm sorry.


End file.
